The Things We Carried
by KaiFukugawa
Summary: Aishe Zierau has one year to live. Matt Murdock falls hard. [Matt Murdock/OC]
1. Chapter 1

He passed out on her.

It was possibly the most unusual, unexpected way the night could have gone. Aishe Zierau had been walking home to her apartment when it happened. She always knew that walking the streets of Hell's Kitchen at night would get her in trouble one day, but nothing bad had ever come of it.

Until now.

By the time she registered she was being pulled into the dark alleyway, it was too late to scream for help. The harsh brick wall bit against her back through her thin work clothes, and the sharp autumn air bit sharply into her lungs.

Two large men blocked her pathway, smiling hungrily, the way stray dogs drool over a piece of meat. She was vaguely aware of her mouth moving, panicked words coming out, but she couldn't hear it over the roar of her heart in her ears as she cursed herself for her stupidity.

And just like that it was over, the men sprawled across the ground, blood oozing sickeningly from the side of one's head. The man in front of her was panting harshly, dressed in all red and black. Her breath caught in her throat when she recognized the sharp little horns on top of his head and she cursed herself in panic while the name _Daredevil_ bounced through her skull. She had just opened her mouth to say something, probably squeak in fear or beg for mercy or something like that when he took one step forward and collapsed on top of her.

...Wait, what?

Wasn't that _her_ job?

...Oh no.

* * *

Matt woke up, sore all over and bone tired. He registered foggily that the couch he was on wasn't his own and then that the room he was in wasn't even in his apartment and then he panicked and—

A gentle, if not shaky hand pressed against his chest.

"Um," a small, hesitant voice came from his right. "I think you should maybe lay back down."

He swung his head to the side and winced when the action pulled at his reoppened cut.

"Where am I?" he demanded lowly. He chased away the guilt when he heard the girl's heartbeat skyrocket nervously.

"Um, y-you're in my apartment, you um...passed out on me in the alleyway where you uh. Kind of knocked those two guys out. Thanks...for that by the way."

Aishe blinked when he shifted his head again, tilting it towards her. He opened his mouth again but then shut it tightly with a thinly veiled grimace.

"Who are you?" the masked man grunted.

"O-oh! I'm. I'm um. Aishe. Uh. I don't. Think you would be willing to tell me your name...would you?"

If she could fully see his face, she would have sworn he was giving her a bland look. After a minute of him staring quietly at her, she laughed nervously, wincing when she heard her voice go an octave higher than usual.

"W-well, um. Let me, uh, get you a glass of water...or something?" She wrung her hands anxiously.

"Water is fine," he finally said.

"Okay! Um. Good. Yes. I will, uh...go get that. Right now."

She saw a ghost of what could have been an amused smirk flit over the lower half of his face as she hurried into the kitchen of her tiny apartment and grabbed a relatively clean glass.

He sipped at it slowly when she handed it to him and grimaced.

"Are you hurt?" she yelped, reaching towards his shoulder. He leaned away sharply from her touch, and she flinched.

"Nothing I can't fix later," he muttered gruffly.

"Oh. Um...okay," she replied doubtfully.

"How did you get me in here without being seen?" he asked suddenly.

She stuttered hastily. "Uh..."

He set a hard...look? Face? Mouth expression? On her

"I, um. Dragged you? Here?"

"You dragged me here," he said blankly.

"I dragged you here," she confirmed.

"How?"

"Uh...through the alleyways? I mean I've had to take them to get home before and my apartment wasn't that far anyway. I mean, I've never been mugged before, but sometimes I just wanted to take a quicker way home or, like, you know, get away from creepy drunk men who would catcall me from their cars and stuff. I mean. I had to drag you because you're like. Really heavy. Like really heavy, so I couldn't pick you up or anything but I could like, drag you on the ground kind of?" she squeaked.

"You dragged me on the ground," he stated.

"By the leg," she added.

It was silent for a long while. Aishe studied the man on her couch. He was tall, well built. She could see why so many were afraid of him. With his outfit and his gruff demeanor, he seemed. Well. Demonic. But for all the stories she had heard about him horrifically beating criminals, she had heard at least two of him saving women from being raped, children from being sold. He was...surprisingly at ease.

Little did she know, he was struggling to keep calm and not vault out the window at the nearest opportunity. The shoulder Claire had just stitched up was screaming at him and every time he moved, the deep gash in his side pulled tightly. The nurse had warned him not to do any vigilante work for the next few nights ("I would really prefer it if you didn't show up at my apartment at three in the morning tomorrow night too.") but he had gotten wind of a situation downtown. A cop's kid. Eight men. They were planning on selling him off to some human trafficker.

His head swam hazily. Had they gotten him in the head too? He couldn't quite recall. All he remembered clearly was grabbing the kid, depositing him as close to the police station as he dared, and calling him in. And then he had heard a young woman pleading from a distant alleyway and pushed his body towards the sound, ignoring the sticky feeling of blood running down his shoulder and chest.

"You're okay?" he asked.

The girl, Aishe, lifted her head, as if she had forgotten he was there. "Oh. Yes, I-I am. Thank you. For that. I um. Don't know what I would have done without you."

He grunted softly as he pushed himself off of the couch on unsteady arms.

"Good," he said. "I have to go."

"W-wait!" she yelped. "You're hurt!"

He smirked tiredly again, that same half there expression that she wasn't sure was really there. He fumbled around for her window, finally unlatching it and pulling it open.

He paused, halfway out already.

"Aishe, was it?"

She nodded, dumbstruck at the injured man about to throw himself out her window.

He nodded shortly. "I wouldn't recommend walking home alone this late in the night anymore."

And with that, he vaulted out the window, leaving no trace except for a small bloodstain on the couch and the open window. When she looked, the masked man had already melted into the thick shadows of Hell's Kitchen. She closed the window numbly and sank into the couch, the bills sitting on her counter long forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the follows and favorites.**

* * *

She made it two days without having another run in with the man in the mask. But she never had been lucky (at this she thought of the many overdue medical bills on her counter and shuddered), and she hadn't listened to his warning to not walk home late at night.

A body slammed into the alley wall. She paused in her footsteps. She could keep going, get home. Maybe watch some trashy TV and then go to bed.

Instead, she decided to stay, watching Daredevil take down the other thug with vicious accuracy. The man's body hit the ground with a solid thud, blood trickling out of the gnarly gash on his head.

Daredevil stayed there, shoulders hunched and panting.

"I didn't think we would see each other again so soon after our first meeting," Aishe called softly. The vigilante's head snapped up at the sound of her voice. She smiled deviously. "Are you following me, Mr. Daredevil?"

"You're that girl," he said gruffly. "The one who dragged me to your apartment."

"Dragged you by the feet, yes," she said. "You're quite heavy by the way."

She could have sworn she say the ghost of a smirk on his face at that before it faded back into that same hard frown.

"What are you doing out here? I thought I warned you to start walking home earlier."

Her shoulders hunched. "A-ah, um well.. I can't really do that if I, uh. Don't get out of work earlier than this."

At the vigilante's disbelieving frown, she stuttered, "R-really! I don't get out of work until ten, and it takes me a while to walk home."

"Why don't you take the subway?" he asked.

"Don't you have criminals to catch?" she shot back.

He cocked his head. "It's quiet right now."

She worried her lower lip between her teeth nervously. She wasn't an idiot; she knew the stories about Daredevil. If she had her way, she would have never had to meet the vigilante, but their paths seemed to keep crossing. And...he had saved her life. There had to be some good in this man who inspired fear in the hearts Hell's Kitchen's criminals.

"Come on," the man said suddenly, breaking the long silence.

"W-what?"

"I'm walking you home," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"O-oh, n-no you don't have to do that," she squeaked. "Besides, how would you be able to with all of that, um."

Aishe gestured heplessly at the man before her, not knowing that he couldn't see her. That ghost of a smirk came back again.

"I know a shortcut."

"O-okay..." she replied hesitantly, following after the masked man as he moved further down the alley. She skirted squirmishly around the two unconscious men on the ground, taking care not to get her sneakers bloody.

The buildings around them blocked out the dim light of Hell's Kitchen; the only sounds were the faint honking of cars blocks away and the occasional scuttle of rats through the trash.

"So," Aishe began awkwardly. "This whole, uh, vigilante thing. Cool stuff."

She could barely see him stop in front of her and had a near miss with his red back. She winced as he snorted. "Not what most people would call it," he said.

"Uh, y-yeah. Sorry I just. Don't really spend my time trying to come up with conversation topics for masked vigilantes who um. Have the strength to crush my skull if they want? I mean, I usually go out of my way not to interact with someone who could hurt me at all. I have no idea why I'm doing it now. I mean, you seem nice enough. For, like, someone who beats people up for a living and stuff?"

He laughed this time, a surprisingly pleasant sound, and she could hear the grin in his voice. "I can't say that many people do. Try to come up with conversation topics for me, that is. The types of people I deal with are usually too busy trying to shoot at me."

"O-oh!" she squeaked.

He turned around.

"You're scared of me," he noted.

"N-not... _scared_ of you necessarily. Just. Nervous?" Aishe replied.

He spun back around and shrugged. "I don't have to walk you home if you don't want."

"You were the one who offered!" she said indignantly, before shaking her head. "I-It isn't you it's just. This is weird is all I guess. I didn't really expect to run into someone like you I guess. I mean, living in this city I kind of knew I would run into some sketchy people...n-not that you're sketchy! Just.. I mean, and after the whole. You know. Aliens thing in 2012, I guess it's just. Easier to be nervous around someone like you even if you seem like a pretty chill guy?"

"Chill?" he asked.

" _That's_ the part you decide to focus on?"

He shrugged.

"I mean. You haven't really. Tried to kill me yet, which is better than what I thought you would be like so..."

It went silent again. He lead her down a turn, head tilting every so often like he was listening to something, but even when she strained, Aishe couldn't hear anything.

Finally, they were facing her apartment building. Aishe bit her lip nervously.

"Um. Thank you," she said awkwardly.

Daredevil nodded. "It's no problem..."

"Aishe," she said. "Um. My name. It's Aishe."

"Aishe," he tried.

"Thank you. Really. You didn't have to walk me home. I know you must be busy what with...you know, all of the crime-y stuff that goes on here. Um. Thank you. Really."

Again, he nodded. "It was the least I could do. Stay safe Aishe."

"Y-yeah. You too. Thanks," she murmured before hurrying past him and across the street to her apartment building.

When she looked back, he was gone.

* * *

 **Short chapter. *shrug emoji* I'm busy and midterms are hard rip in pepperoni.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**:0! Thank you so much for your guys' reviews! There's a lil announcement on the bottom of this chapter regarding updates 'n stuff so read it if you wish~**

* * *

"So how is the whole Daredevil-ing thing going?" Foggy asked at work the next day.

Matt looked up distractedly, having been tracing his fingers over a braille copy of a case they were looking into. After Fisk's fall, they had gotten an influx of clients, which meant more money but also infinitely more work. While the cash flow was nice, along with being able to help those in need, Matt did miss being able to snooze at his desk to make up for the missed sleep due to his extracurricular activities.

"It's going fine," he shrugged, still a bit uncomfortable talking to Foggy about the darker side of his life. "Why do you ask?"

"I mean, if I'm going to get used to this whole vigilante thing you do—" Matt winced at that "—then we might as well talk about it occasionally. Not all the time of course," Foggy said with wide eyes. "Just...I'm trying to get used to it, you know?"

Matt tilted his head for any sign that Karen might be coming into the office— she had left in a huff after her third attempt at making coffee had gone horribly wrong and announced that she was just going to stop at a cafe to get them coffee instead— and, finding none, he sighed. His bones ached from a particularly hard hit someone had landed on his shoulder and his side itched from the stitches Claire had done right after he had left that girl's apartment.

"Tiring," he said after a long silence. "Fisk's takedown didn't keep things quiet for long. If anything, it's _more_ hectic. Everyone seems to be jockying for power, and those that aren't are using them as distractions to get away with smaller crimes."

"So, what, Fisk created, like, this vacuum?" Foggy said. "That seems inconvenient."

Matt gave him a wry grin. "It is for me. But I haven't been hurt too bad yet."

"Uh-huh," Foggy said, narrowing his eyes disbelievingly. "Your definition of 'not being hurt too bad' is a bit stilted Matt. Are we talking scaffolding level hurt or just stiches level or—"

"That was _one_ time," Matt complained. Foggy continues like he hadn't heard him.

"My point is that you seem to get hurt so much that you don't seem to know what getting hurt to bad _is_ ," Foggy stated, waiting for Matt to speak.

His face fell guiltily.

"I did get nailed pretty bad in the head the other night," he said. "And I reoppened one of the cuts Claire stitched up for me."

" _Matt_ ," Foggy groaned.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just...don't want you to worry about me."

"I'll always worry about you, you idiot," Foggy said affectionately. "Might as well accept that now."

Matt laughed. "Thanks, Foggy."

"So, did anything else happen?" his friend asked expectantly. Matt hesitated for a moment.

"I met a girl," he admitted.

"You met a _girl_?" Foggy grinned.

"Not— not that kind of girl." Foggy's face fell minutely before brightening again.

"So how did you meet this girl?" he asked, grinning brightly.

"I, uh. I kind of collapsed on her after saving her from two guys."

Foggy was silent for a beat.

" _Matt._ "

"I know."

" _Oh my god_."

Matt groaned. "I knew I shouldn't have told you anything."

"Aw come on," Foggy jabbed. "So, this girl, what's her name?"

"Um... Aishe, I think?" Matt said uncertainly.

"Aishe," Foggy tried. "Sounds Arabic."

Matt shrugged. "I'll ask her the next time you see her."

"...You plan on seeing her again?" Foggy asked.

"She helped me out, and she walks home in a dangerous part of town. It's the least I can do to keep an ear open while I'm in that part of town."

"I see," Foggy said dubiously. "But that does bring up a good subject. How long has it actually been since you've gotten laid Matt?"

"We are _not_ having this conversation," Matt said. "And besides, how does that bring up the topic of sex?"

His best friend ignored him.

"I mean all of those years of letting me believe you were sleeping with those hot paralegals? That's a sin, man," Foggy griped. "What has it been? Three years since you started this whole Daredevil thing?"

"Foggy I—"

The door clicked open.

"Hi guys," Karen said breathlessly. "Sorry for the wait, the line was terrible at all of the popular places so I had to go to this tiny little place. It was so cool. They handpress their own coffee and everything and the baristas were so nice— Oh. Am I interrupting something?"

"Just Matt being a secretive bastard as usual," Foggy huffed dramatically.

"Hey!" Matt shot back playfully.

Karen just shook her head affectionately, handing out their coffees and sitting down to file through the rest of their paperwork.

* * *

Aishe didn't have any run ins with Daredevil that night or the next. The days seemed to go fast, punctuated by insane orders full of enough sugar and caffeine to make a heart stop. Even the walk home seemed to go faster without the usual worry over the danger lurking in the night.

She unlocked the door to her apartment, sitting down at the kitchen counter to rifle through bills and spam mail. Reading over the letters filled with confusing medical jargon made her head hurt, and she pressed the heel of her palms to her eyes. When she had gotten her diagnosis, she had promptly dropped out of school. Her family was okay financially, but they weren't well off enough to juggle between school and medical bills. Aishe had insisted it would be fine at her parents protests. After all, an art major could only get you so far. She had switched to working full time at the small coffee shop she worked at, trying to earn enough to keep her head up without needing the help of her parents.

There was a faint knock at her window, and she looked up, catching the clock hanging on the wall which proudly proclaimed that is was eleven o'clock at night, around the time she went to bed, and that she had gotten nothing done.

She already had half an idea of who was at the window at this hour, but she peered through the curtains anyway just in case. Sure enough, Daredevil was looking right back at her. She unlatched the window hesitantly, pulling it open quickly to try to avoid the rain that was currently pouring from the sky.

The masked man swung his feet over the sill easily, water making his red suit look like...well, blood.

"Hello, Daredevil," she greeted amiably, grateful for the distraction, even if it was a slightly dangerous one.

He nodded. "Aishe."

"So to what do I owe your presence to tonight?"

"I decided to check in on you," he shrugged.

She laughed lighter than she had in a while. "Can't get enough of me, huh?"

She could have sworn she saw the man grin wryly from underneath his mask.

"If you can't be safer walking home, then it's the least I could do to make sure that you don't get killed. You helped me. I owe you."

"So chivalrous," she laughed. "You don't need to feel any obligation to me just because I helped you. Anyone would have done it."

He looked at her oddly. "Not everyone."

She shrugged uncomfortably. The silence stretche out. "S-so, uh... Nice weather, isn't it?"

"It's not my favorite, no," he admitted.

"Hm. That's a shame. The rain is wonderful," she proclaimed before adding, "Maybe not so great in the city, but out past that? It's wonderful."

He studied her carefully. She seemed tired, he noted. Her muscles were tense despite her relaxed demeanor and her heart was beating slightly faster than normal.

"I wouldn't know," he said, still focusing at the strange heaviness in her muscles.

"In the city, the rain just makes the trash stink," she explained. "But out in the forest or the desert? It brings the smells to life. It's calming."

"You're a lot less nervous around me tonight than you were before," he noted.

Aishe just laughed. "I still am a bit nervous, just... Life's too short to wallow in it, you know?"

Matt didn't know, nor did he understand what she meant, but he nodded anyway which seemed to satisfy her.

She looked at him. "Thank you for visiting me, Daredevil. You're a welcome distraction from the bills."

She laughed but it sounded slightly off.

He was about to respond when the sound of a robbery three blocks down hit his ears, slightly distorted by the rainfall. She must have noticed his change in posture because she straightened.

"Leaving so soon?" she teased, but he could hear a note of anxiety under her forcefully light tone.

He nodded stiffly.

"Stay safe, Daredevil," she called as he slid out the window and shut it behing him, leaving her alone in her empty apartment with its bills and mocking clocks.

Aishe stared at the window sill for a moment longer before turning around and turning off the kitchen light, contemplating rain and masked men as she got ready for bed.

* * *

 **Ooh are they gonna be friendos soon? Maybe. Check out next chapter to see. Also, I love rain. It's raining here finally.**

 **So! Announcments! School is getting v busy for me! It's getting closer and closer to finals week and I have lots of work hoo boy. As you can tell, my updates with this story are getting a bit slower. I'm really sorry for that, n I promise I'll try to update every other week at the latest. So yeah, that's all. Read, review, all that jazz because I live off of praise.**

 **I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving if you're American and a wonderful rest of the week for everyone else!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Am I the only one who's watched the Logan trailer like. 500 times already? Also remember when I said I would try to update weekly and then proceeded not to update for a month? It's finals week starting tomorrow, go easy on me.**

* * *

Aishe woke up late the next morning with a pounding headache behind her eyes and the taste of copper in her mouth. She wiped her nose blearily, felt moisture, and wondered if she had caught a cold. Her eyes cracked open and squinted against the early morning light.

Her hand was smeared with red.

She jolted up, cursing when the room spun around her. Blood dripped down her chin and onto her pajamas. It felt uncomfortably warm against her chilled skin, and she shivered.

Covering her nose, she stumbled out of her bed just fast enough to make it to the bathroom and vomit in the sink.

Needless to say, she called out of work that day. Her boss, an understanding woman with a no-nonsense kind of attitude, wasn't able to reach the phone, but one of her coworkers promised pass the message on. She hated the note of pity in their voice.

When Aishe was first diagnosed, it was hard to believe.

When Aishe was first diagnosed, she pushed everyone away.

But she was an artist, and artists use pain better than anyone. She painted with her nosebleeds and cried on the canvas until she had no energy left in her disease-ridden body to care anymore.

It was amazing how a terminal illness was able to drive people away.

Friends that had been there for years before suddenly came up with excuses to not be seen with her, and she couldn't deny that it wasn't partially her fault. After all, she was the one who started the excuses first. That didn't change that it hurt. It hurt seeing old friends' faces plastered on social media, happy and normal and not dying. She had a place there once.

She debated on whether or not she should call her parents. Back when she had first gotten her diagnosis, she had called them over every little thing. At the time, it had seemed like it was the only way to keep herself together. If she was on the phone with her mom, she could pretend that everything was normal, that they were talking about something as simple as dinner or the weather. Then the guilt set in. Her illness was taking a toll on her parents too. She could hear it in her mother's voice when she answered her phone in the middle of the night, tired and hoarse from crying. She could see it in the way her father could barely look at her anymore. Their beautiful, healthy girl was gone, leaving a frail shadow behind.

She was reminded yet again why having cancer was one of the loneliest ways to die.

When Aishe was first diagnosed, she wasn't sure what to feel. The weight loss, the constant aches, the nosebleeds, and finally, it all coming to a head when she had collapsed at a family dinner. They were all explained by that one word. She vaguely heard the doctor mentioning something to her parents about a hard road, enjoying a vague "last three years" while she laughed silently in the corner, tears running down her face.

They had come back six months later and were given a new prognosis: a little more than sixteen months, if she made it that long.

Her mother cried of course. Her father was silent, holding his wife and coming to terms with the fact that their only child would die before they came to pass. Aishe just sat there, staring at the white office walls, thinking of dreams of going to Europe, of becoming an artist, already having come to terms with the finality of it all.

Two months later, she was diagnosed with depression. She snapped at the therapist, demanded how she should feel when she was _dying,_ _please someone tell her because she sure as hell didn't think they would be able to fix it all with some cheesy Hallmark apology._

Her parents had stopped taking her to therapy after that.

As she lie in her bed, staring at the white ceiling of her undecorated apartment, she thought about all of these thing and more. She thought of the paintings torn from her walls in a fit of desperation. She thought of the acrylic paints that had long since dried out. She thought about getting her degree, about her old professors, and wondered if any of them were worried.

She might have had a fever. She might have been dying. But today, just today, she decided to be okay with that. She fell asleep with her blood drying on her lips.

* * *

Matt visited Aishe's apartment that night. It was oddly silent inside, and for a second he wondered if she was even home when he heard a soft, weak heartbeat from somewhere inside. He knocked on the window tentatively.

Nobody came.

* * *

Four days later, Aishe decided to go back to work. She wrapped a scarf tight around her neck and tried not to shiver too hard on her way to work. It was the middle of autumn and not too cold out yet, but to her it felt like every movement was sending a shard of ice through her skin.

Once she arrived at the coffee shop (affectionately named "Beans, Scenes, and In-Betweens"), she went behind the counter, tied her apron on, and prayed that it would be a slow day.

Unfortunately, she was reminded once more why she did not pray.

After two hours of trying to explain to people that _no_ , they did _not_ have venti Girl Scout machiatto supremes what does that even _mean_ , it was only nine in the morning and still two hours before Aishe could take her fifteen minute break. A tall blonde woman stepped up to the counter, and Aishe fixed her barista grin on her face.

"Hi," the woman said, studying the menu intently. "Can I have um... One Americano and two lattes?"

"Of course! That'll be coming right up," Aishe smiled, rushing off to put the woman's coffees together. It was slowing down a bit now that work had started for most people, and the only customers left in the shop were those sitting at the tables and the blonde woman waiting for her order.

"Are these all for you, or do you have some friends in dire need of caffeine?" Aishe asked jokingly, attempting to make small talk. The woman laughed.

"You could say that. All of the popular shops are so crowded all the time, but I found this place about a week ago and fell in love with it. One of my bosses is really picky about his coffee, so it's a relief to find something he'll actually drink," she explained.

Aishe raised an eyebrow, curling her hands on the counter to steady the slight wave of dizziness that washed over her. "Sounds a bit annoying if you ask me."

"No, no. Matt is really nice, just. Really picky," the lady laughed. "And I've been told by both of them that the coffee I try to make at the office is less than safe to drink."

Aishe grinned dryly and tried to blink back the wave of dizziness swelling behind her eyes.

"I should teach you sometime," she mentioned offhandedly before snapping her mouth closed and flushing. She tried to attribute the fact that she was flirting with the very attractive, very straight woman in front of her to the sudden dizzy spell she was having.

The woman gave her an unassuming laugh and smiled easily. "I don't know if that would help much."

"Yeah, u-um.. So your bosses... You guys sound pretty. Uh... Tight?" she squeaked, wincing at her attempt to cover up her slip up.

"Yeah!" the woman said brightly. "There's only three of us. They're both giant sweethearts."

"Oh, that's. That's nice!"

"It is," she said as Aishe worked the handpress. "Especially now that we're getting a lot more clients."

"Oh! It's good that business is getting better for you guys!" Aishe smiled nervously, trying to focus more on getting the milk to foam properly than coming up with more conversation topics to keep the silence at bay.

"Alright, that's one Americano and two lattes for um..."

"Karen Page," she said, her blue eyes crinkling around the edges.

Aishe smiled. "Well then Karen, this'll be eleven dollars at the register."

* * *

Before she left for the day, her boss cornered her.

"Here," she said, thrusting a card into the smaller woman's hands.

Aishe frowned, turning it over in her hands. "What is this?"

"A coupon for a free hot stone massage," her boss said.

"Sandra... I mean. Thank you, but why are you giving this to me?"

Sandra looked at her. "You know why."

Aishe ignored the painful tug in her chest. "I can't take this."

"Listen kid," Sandra sighed, opening a pack of cigarrettes and leading them outside. She flicked open her lighter and leaned against the brick wall. "I've known you going on a few years now. Can't bear to lose you. I know it won't help save you but... You can't forget to have some fun with life, alright? Just because you have a death sentence doesn't mean you're dead already."

Aishe wanted to say something. She wanted to say a lot of somethings, but there wasn't enough time for her to say all of them. What she did say was, "Thank you, San."

The older woman nodded, pausing to shout after her, "And be careful! I hear that masked lunatic has been running around these parts lately!"

Usually Aishe would have laughed at the her boss's protectiveness, but now she laughed because Sandra had no idea that the masked lunatic she was warning about was a bit closer to home than she knew.

The walk home was silent that night. Not even the sound of Manhatten's constant traffic could have permeated the silence, and tonight Aishe wished it would. She was aware of every beat her heart made in her chest, aware that every time it paused could be the last.

If it was already dark when she started walking, it was even darker when she reached her apartment complex. She was momentarily distracted thinking about how she had dragged Daredevil up her fire escape just over a week ago, but shook the thought away in favor of digging through her kitchen for something to eat.

She was debating drinking the last of the whiskey in her fridge when there was a knock on her window. She opened it distractedly, already having a good idea of who it would be.

Daredevil perched on her windowsill silently, watching her pace around her apartment and debate internally on whether or not to try to brave the bills again or waste the night drinking. She knew one would definitely be more fun than the other.

"You haven't been answering the past few nights," he said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"I... No," she said quietly. "I haven't."

"You were here though." He said it like it was a question.

"Y-yes, I was— How do you know that?"

He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Educated guess."

She opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it.

"You're tense," the vigilante noted. "Today and the last time I saw you."

"What does it matter to you?" she snapped and then slapped her hands over her mouth with a heart ticked up. She vaguely wondered if a heart attack would be a better way to die than wasting away from cancer.

His mouth worked silently for a minute.

"You saved my life," he said like that explained everything. "I'm just trying to repay the favor by looking out for you."

"That doesn't explain why you're still hanging around," she said quietly.

The vigilante opened his mouth like he wanted to say something and then closed it just as quickly. The silence was deafening.

"Why do you keep coming here?" she asked quietly.

"Do you want me to stop?" he whispered.

She closed her eyes.

"No," she said. "I don't"

"Aishe," he started.

"Do you know what it's like to lose everything?" she blurted suddenly.

The man on her windowsill went still for a moment. She thought he wasn't going to answer when, for the first time since she met him, Daredevil seemed to deflate.

"Not quite," he answered. "But I've gotten pretty close."

She inched closer to him warily, finally steeling the courage to take a seat next to him on the window sill. Moonlight bathed the vigilante in soft, silvery light.

"I'm so afraid of losing it all," she said, blinking back the tears gathering in her eyes.

She studied his face silently.

"Does it ever get better?" she finally asked.

"Not really," he said, brutally honest. "But there's a balance point."

She thought about that for a moment, mulling his words over in her mind. Finally, she gave a long sigh, closed her eyes, and titled her head back against the sill.

"It would be a nice night to watch the stars," she murmured.

Matt stayed silent, finally slipping away and leaving her sitting on her window, staring out at the night sky.

* * *

Karen showed up again the next day. Aishe tried to push away the flush on her face (god had she really flirted with her that openly?) and greeted her.

"Hi!" Karen said. "The same as yesterday."

"I've only seen you once before, and you're already acting like a regular," Aishe laughed. Karen flushed.

"Sorry! Is that weird?"

"Not at all," Aishe chuckled, fiddling with the coffee press while Karen scrolled down her phone. When she looked up again, the blonde was frowning.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh." Karen's frown was replaced with a sheepish grin. "Just some dumb opinion piece about Daredevil."

Aishe stilled her hands on the press.

"One of those sensationalist pieces, huh?" she asked, keeping her voice carefully nonchalant.

"Yeah," Karen sighed in frustration. "I just don't understand why people hate the guy so much. Sure, he works above the law, but maybe that's what we need at times like this."

"People are afraid of what's dangerous and different," Aishe said carefully. "But personally? I agree with you."

Karen grinned weakly. Sadly, it was busier than yesterday, and a line of people was already gathering behind the blonde woman.

Once she was gone, Aishe sighed. It was going to be another long day.

* * *

It was close to two in the morning when the knock came at her window. Aishe couldn't sleep. She opened the window in a trance.

"You weren't here last night," the vigilante said simply.

She shook her head mutely. He looked at her strangely.

"Are you okay?"

"No, no... I. I'm fine I—" The room around her spun and the ground rose to her face. The carpet smelled old and musty. It took her a second to realize that she hadn't completely faceplanted into the floor. Her arm bent at an uncomfortable angle.

"Aishe." Matt demanded. "Have you hit your head at all today? What have you eaten?" Her scattered mind processed that Daredevil, a terrifying vigilante, was panicked. Was concerned over _her._

 _Oh,_ she realized. He had caught her. That was nice of him. Her head hurt, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Didn't Daredevil know that? Why couldn't he just let her sleep?

"...Wasn't hit," she mumbled when she finally registered his question.

"You're sure?" he asked.

She hummed positively.

"Okay. Okay. Your heartrate is very high right now I— I need you to open your eyes for me alright?"

"D'know why you're worried 'bout me," she murmured.

"Aishe, I need you to open your eyes," he commanded.

She did as he said, watching his blurry face float in her vision. In the part of her mind that was still able to think, she wondered, _Is this it? I die in my apartment with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen?_

The vigilante cursed under his breath. The room steadied just a bit. She touched his shoulder.

"Don't need help."

His jaw set. "I would beg to differ."

She shook her head, trying to shake off the fog.

"'S okay. I'll be okay. I'm just...tired is all."

"Aishe—"

"Just. Just put me down on the couch please just. Shit. I-I'm sorry. Just put me down on the couch."

Matt did as she said. She covered her eyes, and when she gave no indication that she was going to talk again, he slid out her window and pretended he couldn't taste her panic.

* * *

"Hey, have you seen that girl again?" Foggy asked the next day at work. "Ash or whatever?"

Matt's hands stilled on the file he was reading.

"Yes," he said quietly. He could hear Foggy's frown in his voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He sighed. "Maybe I should."

* * *

 **Right into the thick of it I guess. This turned out heavier than intended but. *Shrugging emoji* That's what I get for listening to Hurt on loop for three hours straight. Anyway, finals are starting this week, so here's a super long chapter. I am screaming. Wish me luck.**


	5. Chapter 5

**GOTTA WRITE THE CHAPTER GOTTA WRITE THE CHAPTER FUCK**

 **also i edited ch 4 so like go read that i guess?**

* * *

"—so then Foggy had to go and explain that we couldn't accept payment in VIP cards to strip clubs, and the guy just about had a meltdown."

"Wait, wait, wait," Aishe cackled, working the handpress. "So you're telling me this guy had a bunch of VIP cards to the strip club just, like, sitting around?"

"I don't _know!_ " Karen exclaimed, eyes bright with humor. "When Foggy came back to the office he was so red, but we managed to get him on a payment plan, so it all worked out in the end I guess."

"I _guess?_ " Aishe guffawed, popping a lid onto the last of Karen's coffees.

Karen smiled, and Aishe pretended that her stomach didn't fall at the butterflies there. As always, the blonde woman dropped a few coins in the tip jar and left with a cheery promise to come back the next day.

It was quiet without Karen's enthusiasm to fill the shop. It was the peak of the season for the little coffee shop, so Aishe's interactions with the other woman had been limited to short, distracted greetings.

Even when the other woman had inquired about her health, all she could do was shrug and laugh tiredly. Work didn't make her health any worse than it already was, and it paid the bills. What more was there to ask for?

She smiled at the memory, grabbing a rag off the rack to begin wiping off counters. The lull in customers was silent except for the low chatter of some stragglers. Today she felt healthy.

She felt alive.

* * *

The TV was blasting some trashy reality show when Matt stopped by that night. He frowned in confusion as he perched on the already open window, ready to lecture the girl (not his friend, he reminded himself, friends would only make him more vulnerable) on the importance of closing possible entrances to her apartment when her heartbeat broke through his thoughts. It was fast and tense. Nervous.

"Are you okay?" he asked suddenly. Aishe looked up at him in surprise.

"Wow, no lecture about the open window?" she joked shakily. "I must really be a mess right now if you can't even find the time to lecture me about safety."

The corner of his mouth curled up.

"You seem tense," he noted.

"Maybe it's because you're perching on my window sill like a weirdo," she shot back. "Seriously, get off. I don't want to be cleaning scuff marks off the second you leave."

He did so with— was she imagining things?— exaggerated reluctance. "Happy now?"

She rolled her eyes and didn't bother to respond. "Are we just. Not going to talk about what happened the other night?" she asked instead, voice soft and nervous.

When Matt didn't respond, she just sighed and got off the couch to go into the kitchen. Matt could hear her fumbling around in her cabinets, smelled something floral and earthy that he recognized as tea.

"So, is there any reason you insist on plaguing my life, Mr. Daredevil? I don't exactly think I would be an asset in crimefighting. Though admitedly I've never tried," she mused speculatively.

He slipped into the kitchen afterward and shrugged.

"If you say that it's because you have a debt to repay, I'll beat you over the head with this mug."

"Feisty," he chuckled, raising a brow.

She yelped and whipped around, mug slipping from her hands and wincing as she waited for it to shatter at her feet. She opened her eyes hesitantly when there was no crash, meeting Matt's exasperated expression through his mask.

"Are you always this clumsy?" he asked, holding the mug in his hand.

Aishe stared at him dumbly. "You're kind of an asshole, you know," she said finally.

"So I've heard," the masked vigilante smirked.

"Wow, a _cocky_ asshole too," she muttered. "What are the odds."

Matt laughed sharply. "You know, most people would be more careful with someone like me in their apartment."

Aishe snorted. "You're about as scary as a puppy," she proclaimed bravely. Matt grinned when her heartbeat skipped and leaned forward until he was towering over her.

"Are you sure about that?" he murmured jokingly, reveling in the sharp spike in her heartrate.

"You come into my apartment and don't even want to talk about a real, legitimate issue, but you have time to scare the shit out of me, a poor, defenseless civilian? Low."

"Like you said," he replied backing off. "You've never tried your hand at fighting crime before. Maybe you would be good at it."

She stared at him for a moment, eyes searching his face for any trace of a joke, before bursting out laughing. He quirked an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing," she snorted, swaying slightly. "You. You um..."

She took a shaky step to the side to grip the counter. Matt could hear the creak of her knuckles tightening like a vice to steady herself. Her heartbeat was quick and skipping, like an old, scratched record.

"Aishe?" he asked.

She blinked forcefully.

"Just give it a second," she mumbled. "I just...need to get my bearings."

"Would you like me to help you?"

She shook her head, finally straightening back up and heading out of the kitchen, tea forgotten.

Matt heard the couch creak under her weight as she settled in. She sighed as she waited for him to come and join her like she knew he would. Never one to disappoint, Matt settled awkwardly on the arm at the opposite end of the couch. It was uncomfortable, he noted, and old. It was disconcerting, this constant shift between carefree and hestitantly awkward that seemed to always brew between them. At first, he hadn't known why he kept on visiting. But there was something light and freeing about visiting this girl who he barely knew. It was different. It was grounding.

Broken out of his thoughts by a tiny cough, he looked in her direction, practically feeling her quizzical stare.

"You're something else, you know that?" she murmured.

"I could say the same about you," he replied. "Not many people would allow the Devil of Hell's Kitchen into their home so openly."

She shrugged. "You've done a bit more help than harm I think. And you took down Fisk. All that has to count for something."

He frowned. "You sure do put a lot of trust into someone you don't even know."

Aishe leveled him with a contemplative stare.

"People are...easy," she began slowly. "There's a pattern to them. We all have things that make us tick, that make us who we are. But deep down, we all share some fundamental attributes too, I guess. They're like paintings kind of. Except paintings don't talk and aren't generally you know. Alive."

He barked out a sharp laugh at that. "You sound like you've thought about this a lot."

"Not that much," she chuckled with something melancholy. "I'm sorry for the other night."

"It's okay."

They sat there in silent, watching the moon steadily rise over Hell's Kitchen. When Matt rose to leave, he sent one last glance over his shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Aishe," he said softly.

She clutched at the fabric of her shirt softly.

"Yeah. Tomorrow," she smiled.

* * *

 **This chapter was a bitch to write I have no motivation for anything lmao. Anyway classes started again this semester so it's been assfuck since I could update.**


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